Sunday 4 October 2015

Hanging Around the Arms!


If you have ever been woken by a clammy disembodied arm flopping over your face, only to discover that it's your own, then maybe you would empathise, to some degree, with those poor souls who have lost the use of these awfully useful appendages.

So here is a heartening fact for you; an Irish fellow has managed to gather together a whole troupe of such unfortunates and taught them to tap dance, of all things! Starting in the local river and progressing to theatre stages throughout the country, the dance group has now entertained many thousands.

Of course, the choreographic possibilities are fairly limited, primarily for safety reasons (due to centrifugal force- spinning like dervishes and slapping one another in the chops just would not do) so they prefer to perform in a long line which clickety-clacks from one side of the stage to the other.

The reason I mention this is because I was in the Chesterfield Arms (my Ale-ma Mater) a while ago, where I observed Tom (my favourite bar steward, sans exception) giving every appearance of having lost the use of both arms; they just dangled pendulously by the side of this strapping young man like those of a rag doll.

Let me explain....I walked in, stood by the bar and, amongst the beer pulls (stretching into the distance), spotted the familiar pump-clip of Marble brewery and the intriguing name of 'Lagonda' on it. 'Go for it!', said the brain. So I ordered a pint with my usual flourish. There was little response, however, to my request; he just stood there, as described, smirking at me.

After a moment (that seemed like hours) of this rather awkward impasse, Tom turned the clip around to signify that Lagonda was now off. I let out a cry of 'Oh, sh*t!...No!'
This was greeted with a sudden chorus of shrieks, yips and guffaws from the assembled regulars from whose huddle an arm extended and a large tin was waved and rattled under my nose. It was the Ashgate Hospice ( Chesterfield's preferred Destination and charity) 'swear box'!

Frustration and indignity prised a pound from my pocket to feed the tin. Unfortunately it also prised another expletive from my (somewhat dry) lips, only to illicit another chorus of shrieks, yips and guffaws and another tin-rattling episode under my nose. So it continued until my change was gone and I twigged that I'd been 'had' and the cask was not empty after all.....I had been chugged by Mr Brown's Boys!

Well, that's the The Chesterfield Arms experience; I always leave a lot poorer, but with a smile that takes at least a day or two to wear off!

And Marble Lagonda? a deliriously tasty (albeit expensive!) pint.

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